“Has it ever happened with anyone else on any other level? You felt what they were thinking?” He stayed very calm, breathing in and out, but now he was tuned to his own mind and body, and the ripple of unease, of dark, dangerous violence, was acknowledged as part of him and let go.
She shook her head. “Lucky you. It’s only been you.”
He kept his expression blank, not showing the relief sweeping through him. “I do consider myself to be lucky, even privileged, being as I’m the only one. This never happened to you, even as a child? Maybe with Lily or one of the others?”
Dahlia shook her head. “Never.”
“But you can’t be around people,” he probed gently.
“Strong emotions make me sick. Violence makes me extremely sick. I’ve had seizures before. I hurt someone a couple of times, accidentally. It looks as if I do it on purpose, but when I’m in the midst of violent energy, especially raw anger or the aftermath of death, such as we experienced at my home, I generate heat along with my own emotions and things happen. My own emotions can make it happen.”
“The flames. It appears as if you throw them out there, but it’s just the opposite, it’s lack of control.”
“Exactly, but it can be useful when people think I do it on purpose.” Again that faint smile touched her soft mouth. Nicolas tried not to stare at her mouth or allow his mind to dwell for too long on the possibilities of kissing her.
She put her coffee cup on the table and leaned back. “Do you realize I know nothing at all about where I came from? I don’t even have a family. You must feel very lucky knowing your grandfather. Tell me something about him.”
“Actually I was lucky enough to know both of my grandfathers. My paternal grandfather was Lakota, a great shaman, a great man. He could do things I’ve never seen anyone do. He used to say each thing has a spirit, a breath of life, and he could talk to the spirits. Once I saw a small boy who had fallen from a cliff and lay broken, so many bones crushed he screamed in agony. While we waited for the rescue helicopter to come, my grandfather began to chant to the spirits, the sixteen who are one. He laid his hands over the boy, and I could feel the heat he generated. By the time the helicopter arrived, the boy was no longer screaming and his bones were perfectly fine. My grandfather was taken in the helicopter instead as his heart nearly failed.”
“That’s incredible. No wonder you wanted to be able to heal people. I’ve read about such things, but certainly never witnessed it. What was his name?”
Nicolas smiled. “Just Grandfather to me.
Nicolas
was one name he went by, but he had many.”
“You really loved him, didn’t you? You must love having his name.”
Nicolas watched her fingers, the strange little rhythm she tapped in the air. She seemed unaware of it. He remembered feeling the rhythm as she tapped her fingers against the mattress in the cabin in the bayou. It obviously was a habit. “Yes I did, Dahlia. Growing up with him was a humbling experience. You can’t imagine how perfect a childhood it was for a young boy. My grandfather taught me to track and to survive in any kind of condition, but most of all he taught me to respect life and nature.” Her fingers fascinated him. There was something hypnotic about the way she spun her fingers in the air. “What are you doing?”
She looked startled. Her mouth formed a question, but she followed his gaze to her fingers. Faint color crept under her skin and she closed her hand into a fist. “I do exercises with small balls. It helps to alleviate the constant bombardment of energy. I had a collection of balls made out of mineral stones, mostly crystals. The different properties help with various types of energy.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Nicolas could see it clearly did.
“I may have saved a few of your favorites. I tossed the ones I saw in your bedroom into the pillowcase right before I noticed the explosives.”
Her entire face lit up. Nicolas felt as if he’d just been handed a Christmas present. She nearly jumped at him, and he braced himself for her touch. At the last moment she changed her mind and simply brushed her soft lips over his face.
Heat seared his cheek. That brief, wisp of gesture seemed shockingly intimate. He reached up and touched the spot with his fingertips.
Dahlia’s color deepened even more. “I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me. I know you don’t like to be touched anymore than I do. I’m acting out of character around you. I honestly don’t throw myself at people on a regular basis.”
“I think we’ve established I don’t mind your touch, Dahlia,” he said. He drew the pillowcase from his pack and fished around for the peculiar balls made of varying crystal and stones. They were cool to the touch, smooth and hard. His fingers brushed hers as he handed them to her. At once he felt the warmth, as if the spheres took on life when transferred to Dahlia. He looked down to see their hands together, his large, hers small, and something immediately tugged at his brain. The memory of his spirit vision came rushing over him.
“Thank you, Nicolas.” She took the small spheres from him. One set was amethyst. Her fingers caressed them immediately, rubbing and rolling them together. Another set was made of rose quartz and still another was made of aquamarine.
It was a small thing, but it brought her pleasure, and that was all that mattered to him. “Do you believe crystals aid in healing?” he asked curiously.
“I don’t know about healing, although they’re reputed to be able to focus the energy and help. I do know they help me tremendously. When I need to be calm, any of these three sets really work, some of the others to a lesser degree.”
“Both of my grandfathers used crystals,” Nicolas said.
“What was your other grandfather like?”
“He was from Japan, and his name was Konin Yogosuto. After Grandfather Nicolas died, I went to stay with him. I was ten. He lived simply. He was a master in martial arts and had a great number of students.”
“And you became one of them?”
Her black gaze teased him. At once he felt his body’s reaction, the tightening of his muscles. That was easy enough to accept. It was the way his heart warmed, seemed to swell in his chest, that bothered him. He made every effort to appear serene, as he had spent so many years learning to do. “Not right away. Interestingly enough, like Grandfather Nicolas, Grandfather Yogosuto also believed in healing first and had as many people come to him for ailments as to learn the way of life. He was a very quiet man. When he said something, I listened.”
“So you had two grandfathers raise you and no women. I had two nurses raise me and no men. Interesting that we turned out somewhat similar.” She raised her gaze to his. For a moment there was silence.
Pain. An aching loneliness
. Nicolas was beginning to understand what she meant about energy. He could feel a sadness emanating from her, and it touched him in places he hadn’t known existed. If there was tenderness in him, it seemed to be reserved for Dahlia. He watched her swallow, the line of her throat delicate. She looked vulnerable in the large chair, sitting with her legs tucked up.
She forced a small smile. “Did you ever have a dog? I always wanted a dog. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t let me have one, it was a matter of control.” She looked down at the table, anywhere but at him. What had ever possessed her to blurt out such intimate details to a perfect stranger?
“You were afraid they’d control you through the dog?”
Dahlia was silent for a moment, undecided whether to keep going or to end the conversation. Finally she nodded. “Everyone seemed to be in control of me, and I didn’t want it to go any further.”
“How could they control you?”
She shrugged. “I needed the house and the remoteness of the location.”
“You have money, Dahlia. A lot of money. You could get your own house in a remote location.”
She ducked her head; the amethyst spheres swirled in her fingers. He watched as they spun in her palm with remarkable precision. In minutes they were no longer in her palm but floating beneath her fingers, continuing the smooth action of rotating just as if her fingers were doing the manipulating.
“Dahlia.” He said her name to get her attention and waited until she reluctantly looked up at him. “You
allowed
them to control you. Why did you do that?”
She was silent so long he thought she might not answer him. “I wanted a family. Milly and Bernadette and Jesse were the only people I had. I stayed to keep them. It was a trade-off.”
Nicolas bit off a word he rarely used and turned his head away from her to stare out the window. For a moment his vision blurred and he blinked rapidly to clear it. “It was a hell of a trade-off, Dahlia. You might have been better off with the dog.” The moment the words were out he wished he could take them back.
Dahlia stood up and shoved back her chair. Her hands were shaking. She put them behind her back. “I need a little space if you don’t mind.” If she burst into tears she would never forgive him . . . or herself.
“Wait.” He took one step toward her. Glided silently. It felt more predatory than anything else and her heart pounded in alarm. She gave ground, taking a step back even though she knew better.
Step to the side, never back up, they just keep coming.
A standard training rule.
“Dahlia, I know I’m making mistakes with you. With us.” He set his coffee cup on the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning when he noted she immediately went into a fighter’s stance. “I’m not used to being with other people any more than you are. I don’t know how to talk to women any more than you know how to talk to men.” He grit his teeth for a moment, feeling like he was making an ass of himself, but he pressed on. “I don’t always know the right thing to say. I’m bound to say something that hurts occasionally. Work with me here. Professionally, there’s no problem, I know exactly what to do, but personally . . .”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how to be personal about anything, Nicolas. You’re not going to get any real help from me.”
“So we have to learn together. Is that so bad? We have common ground. We’re both GhostWalkers. There are only a few of us in the entire world. I saw your books. We read the same books.”
“What books?” She challenged.
There was a small silence. “I’m sure we have the same dictionary.” Nicolas watched her mouth soften and shape into a small smile. He snapped his fingers. “
Zen Mind Beginner Mind.
There you go, I wore out two copies. You had one on your bed. I brought it with me in the pillowcase.”
“You can’t have my copy—I love that book.” Dahlia was ready to forgive him, mostly because he tried so hard to put her at ease. “You must be hungry. We’ll need groceries. I thought maybe if I walked around a bit and let myself be seen, they’ll come to us and we won’t have to work so hard looking for them.”
“That was a sniper out in the swamp, Dahlia. If they sent a sniper, they were looking for a kill.” There was no way to soft-soap it. He wasn’t prepared to have her wandering the French Quarter, setting herself up as a target.
She nodded. “I figured that out. When you said he was like you, I thought at first you meant another GhostWalker, but you would have said like
us.
You didn’t, so he had to be a sniper. How did you know he was following us?”
“Instinct, a sixth sense, my grandfather’s spirit whispering in my ear. I don’t know. When I’m out there, it comes to me and I know.”
“Does he do that? Does your grandfather whisper to you?”
There was no amusement in her voice. She wasn’t making fun of his beliefs. There was interest and perhaps a little envy, but Dahlia found nothing strange about his comment.
She accepted people for who and what they were. She accepted him. Nicolas realized at that moment that Dahlia had led such a different life, so apart, she would never feel the need or desire to judge another for their peculiarities. He doubted if she would ever feel completely at ease with others.
Nicolas knew he preferred a life apart. But it was a choice. He knew who he was and what he stood for. He never felt the need to apologize or explain, not even to Lily. He respected Lily and even felt a rare affection for her, as he did the members of the GhostWalker team, but the emotion was more about family than anything else. Whatever emotion Dahlia stirred in him ran hot and passionate and deep. She stirred up a dark violence he hadn’t known was inside of him, and she brought out laughter, something infrequent in his life.
“Nicolas, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to pry.” Dahlia touched the back of his hand. A stroke of her fingertip. She left a streak of fire on his skin. “If I had a grandfather like yours, I might want to keep him to myself.”
“Both of my grandfathers were meant to be shared with the world. They did their best to bring peace into other people’s lives. Grandfather Nicolas does whisper to me when I need to hear him. To warn me, or to remind me. I feel him close to me. And
bousofu
is also near when I need him.”
“That would mean?” she prompted.
“Grandfather, deceased grandfather,”
he interpreted for her.
“How many languages do you speak?”
“Too many. My grandfathers both had many of the same beliefs. A man should gain as much knowledge as possible.”
Dahlia nodded in agreement. “I read a lot and listened to tapes. All of my schooling was done with tutors. None of them stayed long, but I didn’t need them. And I didn’t want them. They were impatient or afraid or angry because of my strange personality. All of it became negative energy I had to cope with the entire time they were here. Often, it wasn’t even me. They were upset before they ever got there.”
“You learned several forms of martial arts.”
“Yes, and for the most part, because I was doing something physical and most of my instructors enjoyed what they were doing, it was fun. Later, as I got older and they were serious about training me, I was faster than the instructors, and some of them would get angry.”
“Honey, that’s entirely understandable. You’re barely five feet tall, and you can’t weigh a hundred pounds. To make matters worse, you’re a girl. Kicking some man’s butt is not ladylike.”